It's Getting Late
by silverthewolf22
Summary: When John confesses his feelings for Sherlock, his world goes into a spiraling turmoil. He wasn't expecting Sherlock to flip his life upside down. What happens when the rugby team and the ballet class decide to split up Sherlock and John, because they do not accept their relationship. Teen!Lock AU, plus Rugby!John and Ballet!Sherlock. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

I always figured I'd be one of those people who would never find that special someone to spend the rest of their lives with. It's amazing how your world spiraling out of control can change all that. Turns out, I may have found someone after all. Nobody really understands a lot of what's happened in the last few hours, but one thing I know for sure is that I didn't expect my "someone" to be him. I probably would have never found out, either, if it weren't for how the last few days unfolded. Monday morning was just as normal as any other day. School started at 8:00 am, sharp.

We were all in our seats, though some of the cockier sixth form college students were sitting on top of their desks. It was like some sort of ritual they had to perform to prove they were now at the top of the school food chain. I hadn't really noticed when he came in, but at some point he did, and he took his seat with all of us right before class started. Attendance was taken. When my name was called, I answered in the same sleepy voice I used every morning. See, I am the captain of the rugby team. I'm used to coming home late. Sherlock's response had a lot more cheer in it than anyone should be able to muster at 8 in the morning, which was usual. Class continued as it usually did: the teacher expected us to take notes, and in reality we spent more time passing them. She used to scold us, but by this point in the year, I think we had all reached a bit of a détente.

I begin to write a note then pass it to Sherlock, like I always do. Our notes usually said 'Let's hang out this weekend.' or something along those lines, but this note was different. My heart is racing as I pass the note to him, but before I could, our teacher takes the note from my hand. My face blushes.

"Mrs. Hudson, you don't want to read that aloud." I command, but it was too late.

"Sherlock, I'm not that great with expressing my feeling. I cannot put my feelings into words, but I like you. I've like you for a while. I hope you like me too. Signed, John." My face turns a bright red as the whole class bursts out laughing, except Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock stares at me. I run out the classroom. Sherlock hesitates but follows me. I begin to freeze in embarrassment. I should have not written that note in the first place.

"John, are you alright?" Sherlock places a hand on my shoulder. I look up at him and blink in confusion. _Why did he follow me?_ I think. I sigh while looking at my shoes. My face begins to cool down. I look up at him again. I step closer to him. My warm hands reach for his cool face. I pull him closer, and our lips meet. I close my eyes when our lips meet. His eyes are widen with surprise. A small blush forms on Sherlock's face. I could feel it. His hands grab the back of my navy blue hoodie. He returns my kiss. Our lips knead on each other gently.

"Ahem." A woman's voice interrupts us. We both look at her, our eyes broaden with bewilderment. It's our principal. "My office, now." We had no choice, so we follow her. When she wasn't looking, I held onto Sherlock's hand. He smiles a little. After she leads us to her office, we sit in chairs in her office. They were very stiff.

"What were you two thinking?! Skipping class and performing PDA?! I could have you kicked off the rugby team, Mr. Watson." She firmly announces.

"No, please! They need me!" I beg.

"I won't, because of the game coming up next Friday, but consider this a warning, both of you." She glares at us, but then sends us back to class. We leave the office. I hold Sherlock's hand again. Sherlock holds my hand back. I couldn't take it anymore. I push him up against the lockers softly. His eyes broaden with astonishment, but his expression quickly changes to a smirk. I smirk back at him. I kiss him again. He returns the kiss. My tongue slips into his mouth. This surprises him, but he allows it. My tongue dominates his. He pulls back for air. I take a deep inhale then release it.

"Do you want to go out tonight?" I inquire.

"When?" He responds

"Is seven good for you?" He nods in response.

After school ended, we split into our separate ways. I kissed him on the cheek as to say _'See you later.'_ John walks home. Sherlock runs home to get ready in time. He didn't walk home with John that day. He rummages through his closet for something to wear. He sighs. He didn't find anything pleasing. He pulls a purple button up shirt out of his closet. Sherlock undresses and puts on a pair of slacks and the purple button up shirt. He looks at his hair and fluffs it up a little to make it appear nicer. He smiles a little. He rushes to the bathroom and brushes his teeth. After he finishes, a knock on the door echoes across the house. Mrs. Holmes answers the door.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Holmes. Is Sherlock ready?" I ask.

"I'll go check. Come inside." Mrs. Holmes welcomes me. I enter the household. I sit down on the couch and waits for Sherlock. Mrs. Holmes walks into Sherlock's bathroom. He is in the middle of shaving his face.

"Mother!" He shouts in surprise. He sees her in the mirror.

"John's here." She says before walking out. He finishes shaving his face, then wipes off his face with a wet washcloth. Sherlock examines himself in the mirror, exhales then walks into the living room. I stand up quickly.

"You look good. Well, not that you don't always..." My greeting trails off. Sherlock smiles a little. I am wearing a white cotton button up and a pair of jeans.

"Thank you." Sherlock studies me. I have a slight blush to his face. I look at him, then raise an eyebrow in confusion. I wasn't sure why Sherlock is staring at me. I clear my throat in awkwardness. Sherlock looks away.

"Should we go?" I suggest, Sherlock nods in agreement. We wave goodbye to Mrs. Holmes then head out to my car. I fiddle around in my pockets for my keys. I find them and unlock the doors. Sherlock climbs in the passenger side. I get in the driver side.

"Where are we going?" Sherlock wonders.

"I have this really nice spot in the woods that I want to show you."

After a long drive, we arrive in the woods. we climb out of the car. I walk out to the back of the car and unlock the trunk. There is a picnic basket and a bottle champagne in the trunk. I carry the basket, and Sherlock carries the champagne. Sherlock closes the trunk, and I begin to walk. Sherlock follows me. There is something on Sherlock's mind, and it's nagging him, but he pushes that feeling down. He mustn't worry. He should be happy. Sherlock smiles. I look at him and smile. Sherlock blushes a little, but I turned away before I could see Sherlock blushing.

"We're here." I announce. We arrive at a grassy patch with a stream near it. The leaves are shades of red and green. The stream was running softly with its crystal clear water. I set down the basket, drop down on one knee and pull a blanket out of the picnic basket. I lay the blanket down, put the basket on the blanket, then sit down. I pat the spot next to me for Sherlock. Sherlock sits down next to me, but not close to me. I sit the champagne bottle between us.

"You hungry?" I ask. Sherlock nods. I open the basket and pull out two plates, then hand one to him. Sherlock takes it. "My mother made us spaghetti. You like spaghetti, right?" I hand him a fork.

"Yeah." Sherlock unwraps the foil on the plate, then begins to eat his spaghetti. I unwrap my plate and eats off my plate.

"John?" Sherlock calls the attention of me. I turn to look at him; my mouth full of spaghetti. I chew then swallow.

"Yes?" I reply.

"When?" I pour him a glass of champagne, then pour myself a glass. Sherlock takes his own glass. I drink from my own glass.

"What?" I ask, but I take another drink of champagne.

"When did you have feelings for me?" Sherlock questions me. I spit my champagne out. I cough. I had to think about that. "Well, it was difficult, especially after Mary moved, but I guess it started when you told me 'Rugby.'" He freezes up by my answer. I shake him a little. He shakes his head to pull himself back to Earth. We finish our dinner. We place our plates back into the basket. I pour him another glass of champagne.

"How did you get champagne anyway?"

"I stole it from my older sister's room."

"You bad boy." He smirks. I kiss him again. He pulls me closer, and I allow it. My fingers dig into his curly, dark hair. A smile grows on his face. It's glowing. His mouth tastes very sweet. The sun was starting to set. He pulls away from our kiss. I'm left gasping for air.

"It's getting late." Those are the words I didn't want to hear. I could feel my heart shatter. I wish we could stay a little longer. I didn't want this moment to end.

"I understand." Those are the words I didn't want to say, but I did. I couldn't force him to stay any longer. We chug down the rest of the champagne left in our glasses. I pack up the basket. He takes my free hand, and we take our walk back to the car. What we saw would haunt us forever.

My car is vandalized. The windows are broken. The words 'gay' and 'faggot' were spray painted onto the doors of the car. The windshield had a note tape to it. I walk up to my vandalized car to read the note. The note reads: _'Hope you had fun being on the team, faggot.'_ I rip the note in angry. Why would the rugby team do this to me? I grumble in angry. Sherlock reaches out for my shoulder. I turn to look out him.

"Are you okay?" He asks. I pull him into a hug, dropping the basket.

"Damn rugby team did this..." I mumble into his shirt. I'm fighting the urge to cry out of anger, but I don't. I don't cry because of Sherlock. He may not understand how I feel, but at least he cares.

After we clean up the broken glass out of the car, I drive Sherlock back to his house. We get out of the car and walk up to his front porch. He takes my hands.

"I had a great time, really."

"Me too." I reply. He pulls me into a kiss. My hands grip the back of his shirt. Our lips massage each other. Our kiss is interrupted by Sherlock's mother.

"Boys! Not on my porch." Her eyes glance to my car. Her jaw drops. "What happened?! Who did this?! I'll give them a piece of my mind." She declares. I couldn't help but smile. She's treating me like one of her sons. I think I found my second family.

I go home and explain to my parents why my car is vandalized. They were angry, but not at me. I head up to my room and change into pajamas. I plop onto the bed, and close my eyes. I dream of Sherlock that night. My smile stretches across my face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

I didn't enjoy the past few days. Rumors about Sherlock and I are spreading like wildfire. People keep shoving Sherlock and I into lockers. Some stupid jock grabs Sherlock by the collar of his shirt and spits in his face. I run up to Sherlock and punch the jock in the jaw. He drops Sherlock.

"John, run!" Sherlock urges, but I don't obey. The jock swings at me, but I quickly duck, and then punch him in his groin. He falls to the ground; his hands between his legs. People stare at me in shock. I take Sherlock's hand and walk down the hall. I walk to his locker.

"You didn't have to do that, John."

"You know I did." I tell him as I wipe the spit off his face. He sighs. He opens his locker and gets his textbooks. "You're not mad, are you?"

"...No." He pauses. "Thank you." He looks around. "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh, what? Is that damn jock back?" I ask, but I am wrong; it's our principal. She doesn't say anything as she glares at us. She points to her office door.

Classmates around us speak in unison. They all were going "Oooh." We trudge to her office. She sighs, as she looks at the jock who I fought.

"Are you alright, Brian?"

"No! These two dumb fucks kicked me for no reason!" He yells.

"We didn't do anything!" I announce, but I knew she wouldn't listen to me, or Sherlock.

"You two, sit and be quiet. It's Brian's turn to speak. Now, Brian, what happened exactly?"

"Like I told you, these two started kicking me when they saw me in the hall."

"Miss, that's not what happened. See, he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and spit in my face." Sherlock pleads.

"Exactly." I agree. The principal sighs.

"Instead of trying to find out who's right and who's wrong, I'm sentencing you three to lunch detention. I will call your teachers telling them that you will be staying after lunch to scrap gum off the underside of the tables."

"What?!" Brian and I shout in unison.

"You heard me. Now leave, all of you." She declares as she points to the door. We all get up and walk out of her office.

After lunch, we spent the next hour scraping gum from thirty tables. Sherlock and I were working together, while Brian was working on the opposite side of us. When no one was looking, I sneak kisses on Sherlock's cheek. This makes him smile. Sherlock would kiss me on the lips when he thought no one was looking, but Brian is looking.

"Faggots." He thought that we couldn't hear him, but we did. I am close to punching him in the face. I think that's what he wanted. I am about to get up, but Sherlock pulls me back down.

"Don't, for me, please." He begs. I get back down and kiss him on the lips. He smiles. Brian makes a gagging noise, but we ignore it.

"Weightlifting isn't a real sport anyway." I whisper to him. He giggles quietly.

After school, I have rugby practice. Sherlock stays after school with me. I have to do this. I have to face the rugby team. I take a deep breath in, then exhales. I march up to my teammates. They all start gathering around me. Sherlock stands up in fear. I sigh.

"Guys, what's going on?"

"What's going on is that you're a gay faggot and we don't want you on the team anymore. All those time in the locker room, I knew you were staring at me." One of my teammates gets close into my face and pushes me. I fall on the ground. Sherlock runs from the bleachers and towards me, shouting my name. My teammates start kicking me into a pulp. They grab Sherlock and kick him the same way they kicked me. They disperse.

"Sherlock..." I grumble as I reach for his hand. He takes my hand and coughs up a little bit of blood. My eyes widen at the sight. I struggle to get up, but I do accomplish the task. I help up to his feet and place his arm around my walk back to my place.

"John, I don't want to explain to my parents what happened, can I stay at your place, until I fully heal?"

"Of course. I'm sure my parents will understand when I tell them."

"Please don't tell them." He begs.

"I have no choice, Sherlock. It's either they figure out now by me, or later by someone else." I tell him. He sighs, but I know he understands.

After I explain to my parents what happened to us, they break down into tears. I look away. I didn't want to see them upset. I never did. I take Sherlock up to my room. He sits on my bed, and starts to cry a little.

"I don't want to go back to school, John. I want to be in our own world where we don't have to deal with the prejudice of our classmates. Oh my, what if the ballet class finds out about relationship? They'll kick me off for sure." His breath quivers, from fighting back tears. I rub his back to comfort him to the best of my abilities.

"We'll be fine. I promise." I whisper, but I wasn't too sure myself. How can I protect the ones I love the most? I think. I sigh and look down. He kisses me on my cheek. I look at him. I study his bruises, then look away. _This is my fault. I should have never told him in the first place. We wouldn't be where we are now, and I'm to blame._ I kiss him on the cheek, to say _'I'm so sorry.'_

"Can we change the subject? Please." I ask him.

"Of course. So, I have a dance recital Friday, can you make it?"

"Anything for you." I smile.

Friday arrives. We were still bullied, but we force the feeling of getting into fights down. We are trying to behave, because I want to go see Sherlock's dance recital, and I wasn't going to miss it for anything in the world. Not even the rugby team could hold me back. I hold his hand. He smiles and hold my hand back. Our classmates are whispering to each other. My eyes glance around to each one of them. They freeze up in fear. I smile in glory. Sherlock looks at me in confusion. I didn't notice his glance.

At lunch, people were still staring at us. I didn't care. I love him too deeply. We were about to kiss, until this one girl walks up to us.

"Sherlock, I don't think you should be with _him_. Actually, the whole class agrees. People like us don't mingle with people from the rugby team. We mingle with our kind."

"Sarah! Enough! That is my boyfriend you are talking about. If you going to talk like that, then I'll leave the class."

"No, please! We need you. You're the best dancer our class has ever seen." She gets on her knees and begs. I am as surprised as Sherlock is, but I'm mostly surprised because Sherlock called me his boyfriend.

"B-Boyfriend?" I stutter.

"Now go, and tell anyone who believes that we don't belong together that we will stay together. No matter what anyone says." Sherlock points behind her. She quickly gets up and runs away. Our classmates were staring at him in shock. I am also looking at him in shock. I've never seen Sherlock like that. It was quite pleasing. I grab his face and kiss him roughly. His eyes are widen with astonishment. He kisses me back.

After school, we divide into our separate ways. He stays after school for rehearsal, while I head home to get ready. I have an early dinner because the show starts at five and it's already four-thirty. I put on my best suit.

"Where are you off to? Don't you have a game tonight?" My mother asks me.

"I'm quitting the team, especially after the way they treated me and Sherlock." She nods in response. I hug her and head off to a flower shop to get some red roses. I drive to the school. Instead of seating in the audience, I sneak backstage. Sherlock spots me instantly.

"What are you doing here? Why didn't you wait in the audience?" He speaks in a loud whisper.

"I had to see you. I thought about what you said earl-." The teacher's voice over the microphone interrupts me. She announces the recital. Sherlock urges me further backstage, and I obey. He gets into his place. I place his flowers in his dressing room, then I return to my original spot. He is performing The Nutcracker. I smile. With every movement he makes, I fall more deeply in love with him. My heart is racing. I place my hand over my heart. I can feel its rhythmic beats. I smile, with my face blushing.

After they take their final bow, I applaud them, along with the audience. Sherlock looks at him, and I give him a thumbs up. He smiles. I smile back. When the curtain goes down, Sherlock runs towards him. He grabs me, and dips me. I smirk. He kisses me. I give a kiss back.

"So, I'm your boyfriend?" I look up at him. He's blushing.

"Well, um, only if you want to be. I said that to get Sarah off my back, and I-" He rambles on, but I shush him by kissing him.

"Of course I want to be your boyfriend."

Monday wasn't the best day for me. Rumors about me being Sherlock's boyfriend are spreading. They are true, though, and I didn't care. The rugby team surrounds me in the hallway. Sherlock is watching from a distance.

"Where were you Friday night? We needed you."

"Really? Because you guys had a funny way of showing it. Remember, when you guys kicked us to a bloody pulp, literally!" I scream before storming off, but one of my former teammates pulls me by my collar.

"You're not getting away that easily." I am starting to get worried. I didn't want Sherlock to see me get beaten up again. I close my eyes in fear. I can hear them snicker. I could feel the air from one of them about to swing, but they stop mid swing. I open my eyes. A teacher pulls him away from me. I gasp for air. Sherlock runs up to me and holds me. The teacher takes Sherlock and I to the principal's office. We sit down in front of her desk.

"I heard about what happened to you guys on Tuesday. I'm sorry. I gave the team a stern warning."

"A stern warning?! They should be expelled!" I yell.

"Calm down, Mr. Watson. _I_ make the decisions, not you." She gives me a stern glare. She sighs. "What am I going to do with you two?"

"Us two? What about the rugby team? They beaten us up."

"Leave, both of you. I'll sort this out."

By the time we walked out of her office, the halls were abandoned. Sherlock looks at me. I return the glance. I place my hands on his shoulders. His eyebrow raises up in confusion.

"No matter what, we will get through this." I reassure him. He blinks, but kisses my cheek.

"I love you, John." He whispers into my ear.

"I love you too."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

I am laying in my bed. I hear tapping on my window. I get up hesitantly to see who it is. It's Sherlock. He's in his pajamas. I open my window.

"What are you doing? It's in the middle of the night." I speak in a loud whisper.

"Let me in. I can't get to your window." He replies back in the same hushed voice. I shut my window and quicken my pace downstairs, quietly. I unlock the front door quietly and let him inside. He gives me a kiss on the lips. I back away in shock.

"What are you thinking? It's one am." I whisper.

"I'm thinking that I missed you, and couldn't wait to see you." He replies back quietly.

"You're lucky that we don't have school tomorrow. Come on." I sigh. "You know, you could have just texted me."

"It's not the same, John. I miss holding you in my arms." I stop and look at him. I smile a little. I take his hand and lead him upstairs. His face is flushed. I shut the door behind him and pin him up against it. His face is filled with surprise. I kiss him roughly on the lips. He gives me the same kiss back. His finger get laced into my hair. I grip his curly hair gently. I lift him up. He wraps his legs around me. I step back and sit on the bed. He looks at me with confusion.

"I won't do anything unless you wanted me to."

"I rather wait. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It's your body." He kisses me. I kiss him back. We lay down and place kisses all over each other, until we drift off to sleep.

The next morning pours in. My arms are wrapped around Sherlock's sleeping body. I can feel his body breathing. It feels soothing. I open my eyes slowly. I smile. I got to wake up with the one I love. I rub his stomach softly, then leave kisses on his neck. His stomach is warm. This wakes him up.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you up."

"Who says you woke me up? Maybe I was awake this whole time." He turns to face me and nuzzles my face with his. I giggle. I slide my hand under his shirt and rub his back. He smiles. I kiss his forehead.

"Hey, John. Mom wants to know-" My sister walks into my room. She stops mid sentence and freezes up in horror. She runs downstairs, shouting for our mother. I jump over Sherlock and run after her. Sherlock sits upright in my bed. I grab my sister by her robe, but she fights with me. She wins and catches up with our mother.

"John has Sherlock in his bedroom!" She declares. My eyes widen in dismay.

"Well, you had champagne in your room."

"You bloody arse! Stay out of my room!"

"Both of you, enough! You, get Sherlock out of your room and back home. You, stop buying alcohol without my permission. I understand that you are of legal age, but that doesn't mean you can go and drink up a storm." She points at both of us before returning to cooking breakfast. I walk back upstairs, but before I did, I stick out my tongue at my sister. She returns the same gesture. I look at Sherlock.

"I heard what happened. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Now, come on. My mom wants me to drive you home."

"Alright." He takes my hand and I take his as we walk downstairs. There is something on my mind, and I had to plan this out. If I didn't ask soon enough, I might be too late.

A few days have past since Sherlock stayed the night. I want to make a grand entrance today, because prom is a few weeks, and I want to ask Sherlock to prom. Sherlock is rummaging through his locker, not noticing that I walk into the school hallway. I am wearing a suit and tie. I'm also holding a sign saying 'It's not getting to late to say yes.' I get down on one knee.

"Sherlock, I've know since Year 11, and I am thankful for three crazy years with you. I love you, so very much. Will you go to prom with me?"

"Yes, John! Yes!" He exclaims. He grabs a hold of me, and we fall backwards. I laugh.

"You're so cute." He smiles. Our classmates begin to clap for us. I guess they finally accept our relationship, well, except the rugby team and the ballet class. I wasn't sure why. They weren't going to split us up, no matter how hard they tried. That, I know I was sure of.

Prom came around sooner than we had thought. My mother is fixing my tie. She smiles.

"My little boy is growing up."

"Mom. It's just prom."

"I know. You look so handsome. Sherlock will love you. I promise." A knock on the door interrupts my mother fixing my tie. She finishes then answers the door. It's Sherlock. I look at him and my jaw drops. His hair is slicked back, except one short curl, which I thought looked so cute.

"So, shall we head out?"

"Wait, I need pictures." My mother declares. She searches the house for her camera. She finally founds it and takes several pictures of us. Sherlock covers my eyes as he leads me outside.

"What's going on Sherlock? What are you wanting me to see?"

"Okay, open." He announces as uncovers my eyes. A long, black limo is parked in front of my house.

"You rented a limo?! That's amazing!" I pull him into a celebratory kiss. He smiles.

"Shall we head to the school?"

"Yes."

After the driver takes us to the school, we head out of the limo. We can hear the bass from the speakers from the parking lot. We hold each others hand as we enter the gym. A pop song is blaring on the speakers. I pull Sherlock onto the dance floor. He almost trips on the girl's dress.

"Hey! Watch it! Wait, you're Sherlock, right?!" She speaks over the music.

"Yes! Why?!"

"I'm Molly! I saw your performance last month! You're really good!"

"Thank you!" He replies. I wave at her. She waves back and I take Sherlock's hand and start dancing with him. I didn't want this moment to end. It is perfect. I am getting parched.

"You thirsty?!"

"Yeah!" He answers. I head over to the punch bowl. I feel a tapping on my shoulder. I thought it was Sherlock, but it wasn't. It is Alex and Sarah. Alex is the one who beat Sherlock and I up. They were wearing matching colors.

"I thought people that were on the rugby team can't mingle with the ballet class?"

"Yeah, well. It took me some convincing, but Alex is really sweet. We're still mad at you. You're ruining Sherlock. Now, we'll show you how we deal with people who destroy others." She proclaims as her and Alex push me into the punch bowl. People start to laugh at me. Sherlock runs up to me and helps me to the bathroom. I punch the wall in anger. I am not angry because they ruin my suit, but they humiliated me on a very special night. Sherlock grabs my balled up fist before I can punch the wall again. I turn at him, with a scowl on my face.

"Don't, for me, please." He urges. I sigh. He's right. My scowl disappears. I hug him, and he wraps his arms around me. "Now, let's go back out there and have a great time. I want to slow dance with you."

"I would like that." He takes my hand and walks with me to the dance floor. My head is held up high. A slow song is playing. He places his hands on my waist, and I place my hands on his shoulders. We sway side to side. I close my eyes, and breathe him in. The sweet scent of his cologne fills my nose. He's looking down at me. He places his hand on my cheek. I look up at him with wistful blue eyes. I move my head to kiss his hand. He smiles. The song is almost over, but I didn't want it to be over. I want us to stay in this moment, forever.

"You picked me, and I am grateful." Sherlock whispers into my ear. I smile, which makes him smile.

"Kiss me." Which he does. The sweetness of his mouth overwhelms me to the core. 'Don't stop.' I plead to myself. He doesn't. His lips mend with mine contemporaneously. My hands slide down to his waist, and I yank him closer. He grins. The song ends. He pulls back for a moment.

"Want to get out of here?"

"Oh, god yes." I take his hand, and lead him out of the gym. We head back to my place. It was midnight by the time we got home. My parents are sleeping, so we have to be quiet. We sneak upstairs. I sit Sherlock down on my bed.

"I'm going to shower, then wash my clothes. You can wait right here. After I'm done, we'll go to that twenty-four hour pub that is down the road, okay?" He dips his head. I grab my bath towel, and walk to the bathroom.

After I shower, I throw my clothes into the washer machine. I walk back upstairs to Sherlock. Sherlock looks at me and gulps. I forgot I was still in my towel.

"Sorry, do you want me to put some clothes on?"

"N-No. You're f-fine." He stutters; his face flushed. I grab a change of clothes and walk to the bathroom to change. Now, my face is burning. I change into my pajamas and walk back to Sherlock.

"Sorry about that. It won't happen again." I tell him. He gets up and strides toward me. He yanks me by the pocket on my shirt, gently, and leans down towards my ear.

"Maybe I want it to happen again." He murmurs. My face begins to burn again. I glance at him. He has a grin on his face. I embrace him. Our kiss is interrupted by the ding of the dryer. My suit was clean. I run downstairs silently. I change into my suit in the laundry room.

"Sherlock, I'm ready." I speak in a loud whisper. He walks downstairs gracefully. He takes my arm and we walk down to the pub.

We got drunk that night. I stumble home with him. He has his arm wrap over my shoulders. We stagger upstairs. We get bored and decide to play a game. I write Sherlock Holmes on a sticky note, and he writes Madonna on a sticky note. He tells me to close my eyes. I listen to him and he sticks the note on my forehead. I tell him to do the same, and I stick the note on his forehead.

"Am I a vegetable?" I ask him, with my eyes open.

"You, or the thing?" He points at me. We both snicker.

"Funny!" Sherlock looks down.

"Thank you." He replies bashfully.

"Come on." Sherlock raises his head.

"No, you're not a vegetable."

"It's your go."

"Errr...am I human?

"Sometimes."

"Can't have 'sometimes.' Has to be, um..."

"Yes, you're human."

"Okay." He leans woozily forward, bracing his upper arms on his legs. "And am I a man?"

"Yep."

"Tall?" I hold my hands wide.

"Not as tall as people think."

"Hmm. Nice?

"Ish."

"Clever?"

"I'd say so."

"You would?" He asks. I chuckle. "Mmm, am I important?"

"To s-some people."

"Do "people"...like me?" He makes vague air-quotes around the word.

"Er, no, they don't. You tend to rub 'em up the wrong way."

"Okay." He replies. I snicker. Sherlock slumps back and then leans forward again. "Am I the current King of England?"

"Are you ...?" I cackle with laughter. "You know we don't have a king?"

"Don't we?"

"No." I chuckle again briefly. He sits back again.

"Your go." Unfolding my legs, I shift forward until I am sitting right on the edge of my bed. I instantly start to slide off and reach out to brace myself with one hand on Sherlock's right knee. I push myself back a little, then Sherlock and I look down at my hand. I pull it away and hold both my hands out, shrugging. "I don't mind." Sherlock shrugs to indicate that he's not bothered either.

"Am I a woman?" Sherlock looks at me for a second, then snorts laughter. He chuckles for a few moments. "What?"

"Yes."

"Am I...pretty?" I point up to my forehead. "This." He props his head up on one fist.

"Err...Er, beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences and role models."

"Yeah, but am I a pretty lady?" I blink owlishly at Sherlock, who leans forward and screws up his eyes to peer at the sticky note.

"I don't know who you are. I don't know who you're supposed to be."

"You picked the name!" I shout. Sherlock flails a hand towards another part of the room.

"Ah, but I picked it at random from one of your sister's magazines."

"You're not really getting the hang of this game, are you, Sherlock?"

"So I am human, I'm not as tall as people think I am..." He sits back. "I'm-I'm nice-ish..." I stretch out my feet and prop them next to my boyfriend's legs. "...clever, important to some people, but I tend to rub them up the wrong way." He laughs with delight. "Got it."

"Go on, then."

"I'm you, aren't I?" He answers. I couldn't help but laugh. I kiss him on the lips. He smooches me back. I didn't remember what happened the rest of that night, but I didn't care. I was with Sherlock. That's all that matters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The next morning is rough. I have a massive hangover. I look at the sleeping Sherlock. He still had his sticky note on his forehead. I grin a little. I remove the sticky note and place it on the wall behind him. I feel my stomach churning and I run to the bathroom. I vomit in the toilet.

"Hey. Are you okay?" My sister knocks on the door.

"Just-" I begin to say before vomiting again. She cringes at the sound.

"What did you guys do anyway? Go to that pub down the road?" She aggravates me. I remain silent. She gasps. "You did! I'm telling mom and dad." She exclaims before running out to our parents' room. I don't try to stop her. I don't feel well enough to go after her. I flush the toilet. Sherlock yawns and walks into the bathroom. His eyes are half closed. He doesn't notice me. Sherlock turns to face me.

"John, get out of here. I need to go." He mumble. I listen to him. I shut the door behind me.

"John Hamish Watson! Come down here this instance!" I hear my mother yell my name. I groan. I hate my middle name. I walk hesitantly downstairs. My sister is walking upstairs, and she grins at me. I enter my parents' bedroom. My mother is standing beside the bed, tapping her foot. My father is standing beside her, shaking his head. I sigh.

"We've raised you better than this, John. Why would you do this? It's Sherlock's fault, isn't it? I want you to break up with him, now." My mother scorns me. I look at her with shock. I could hear my heart breaking inside my chest.

"No, please! I love him!" I beg, but she shakes her head and points towards the door. I trudge out of their bedroom and upstairs to the bathroom. I knock on the door.

"Sherlock, listen. We need to talk." I sigh, but there isn't an response. I open the door. Sherlock's head is laying a small pool of blood. I quickly run up to him and carry him downstairs. I drive him to the hospital, checking his pulse along the way. He's still alive. I have my lucky stars to thank for that, but his breathing is soft. The rain pounds against my windshield. I drive swiftly through the traffic. We arrive at the hospital. I carry him inside, while running. His head is dripping blood onto the floor. The nurses take him away from me. I'm left standing alone.

I am sitting in the waiting room, of the nurses leads me back to Sherlock. He's sitting in his bed, with gauze wrapped around his head. He looks at me. The nurse leaves us be.

"How did I get here? What happened?" He asks.

"You bumped your head pretty bad. I drove you to the hospital. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm alright."

"Do you feel well enough to go home?"

"Yeah." He calls the nurse inside. It's Molly. She waves at us.

"What are you doing here?" I ask kindly.

"I volunteer here on Saturdays. Are you okay, Sherlock?" She worries.

"Yeah. We would like to go home."

"Okay, I'll sign you out myself." She declares before walking out. She returns a few minutes later. She leads out of the hospital. Sherlock and I climb into my car. The rain is still pouring. I look at Sherlock, sigh, then look away.

"What's wrong, John?"

"It's...It's getting late, Sherlock."

"John..." He replies, but he doesn't finish his sentence He knew what I meant. Sherlock gets out of the car, and walks to his home. I slam my fists on the steering wheel and begin to cry. I didn't want to say that, but I had to. Tears sting my burning face, I climb out the car and run to Sherlock. I plant one on his lips.

"I don't want end this relationship. I don't want to end us. It's what my mother wants."

"Is that just an excuse to break up with me?! Are you that scared to be with me?"

"No...Sherlock..." I speak, but he walks away. I clench my fists. I walk back to my car, and drive back to my house. My mother greets me.

"Your father has changed my mind. You can date Sherlock, sweetie."

"Are you serious?! I drove to the hospital, worried that Sherlock may not make it, and then I had to break up with him, as soon as he got out the hospital, just to turn around for you to change your mind?! He doesn't believe me that you wanted us to break up. I hate this! I hate you for changing your mind!" I shout. This brings her into tears. I stomp upstairs and slam my door shut. I begin to cry out in anger. I sit against my bedroom door. I grip my knees close to my chest. I decide to call Sherlock. He doesn't pick up. I throw my phone onto my bed. Well, the rugby team and ballet class got they wanted. Sherlock and I are no longer together.

Weeks have passed since I broke up with Sherlock. He walks in with Molly, holding her hand. My jaw drops. My expression changes to anger. I slam my locker shut, then march up to him. Molly looks at me, then looks at Sherlock.

"Can I speak to Sherlock, alone?" I demand. Molly kisses Sherlock on the cheek and walks away. I'm not sure if she was trying to make me jealous, or not, but I was too angry to care. I yank him into the nearest boys bathroom. He crosses his arms.

"Look, I don't know what your deal is, but it was my mother who wanted us apart, but she changed her mind the same day. I'm not asking for you back. All I'm saying that you and Molly deserve each other."

"John, wait." He pulls me into a kiss. I give in. I miss his kisses. I miss him. I embrace him.

"What about Molly? She'll be devastated..." I look up at him. He sighs.

"You're right. I'll let her down easy."

I witness Sherlock and Molly's break up. It didn't go so well. She ends up slapping his face and storming off. He's left standing there, rubbing his cheek. He joins me at the lunch table. He sighs.

"I tried."

"I know you did. Do you want me to get you some ice for your face?" I ask, but he shakes his head. I hold his hand underneath the table. He kisses my cheek. I smile. I'm back onto the path of happiness. I wrap my arm around him and pull him closer. He smiles. He takes a chicken nugget off my tray, dips it into ketchup and eats it. I do the same. We end up clearing my tray. Sherlock offers to take the tray to the trash. I thank him by nodding slightly. He walks off.

Next thing I heard, classmates burst out into laughter. I get up quickly to see what they were laughing at. It's Sherlock. He's stuck in a trash can. I run up to him, and Molly joins me. I give a strange look. She looks back at me with anger. I look away. We help Sherlock out of the trash can. We rush to the nearest boys bathroom.

"Stay out here. We got this."

"No way! I'm going in. He's my friend." She argues, but I don't disagree. I let her in through the door. I follow in behind her with Sherlock. We start to clean Sherlock off.

"Whoa! What is she doing in here?!" A random Year 10 student asks in a loud voice.

"Piss off!" Molly and I speak in unison. We glance at each other. The Year 10 student runs out the bathroom. We both begin to laugh. We clean Sherlock off.

"Who did this to you? Was it Alex and Sarah?"

"Just Alex. Didn't you know that Sarah broke up with Alex?" He asks, but I shake my head. "Yeah, whole ordeal about him cheating on her. Something like that. I don't know. I don't like to get involved in gossip."

Molly leaves the bathroom when we finish cleaning off Sherlock. Sherlock pulls me closer. I grin. He starts to make out with me. I allow him to. His kisses taste so sweet. He takes my hand. My free hand lace into his hair. His fingers grip my short hair. I push him up against the title wall. He smirks. We kiss each other roughly. Alex walks in.

"Ew."

"God, what do you want?" I sigh and look at him.

"I need to piss. Get out, you faggots." He spits on my face. I'm about to swing, but Sherlock stops me. Alex begins to laugh. I turn to look at Sherlock. He gives me a look of concern. I sigh then look down. He didn't have to say anything. He was right. I shouldn't get involved.

"Look, Alex. We're not scared of you. We'll graduate soon, and you don't have to ever see us again." I declare before taking Sherlock's hand and walking out. Alex glares at both of us. We don't look behind us. Molly is waiting outside the bathroom. She's crying. I bend down to her level.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I ask, but no reply. I examine the ground. Her glasses are broken. I help her up to her feet. Sherlock picks up her broken glasses. Alex walks out of the bathroom. He looks at us and laughs.

"What's the matter, four eyes? Can't see?" He asks while laughing, but we ignore him. Molly silently sobs. We quickly get her to the clinic so she can call her parents. Sherlock and I return her broken glasses to her, and then we wave goodbye to her. Sherlock and I are walking back to class, until he stops. I turn to look at him.

"What's wrong?" I say with a smile on my face, trying to cheer him up.

"We're going to graduate soon, and I don't know if I'll ever see you again." His eyes begin to get teary. I walk up to him and hold him.

"Hey, we'll always be together. I may not be going to the same school as you, but we can still see each other. I promise." I reassure him. He wraps his arms around me. My smile is hidden underneath his shirt.

Graduation day. Sherlock is getting ready at my place. I adjust my blue cap, and put my tassel on. Sherlock emerges from the bathroom. His hair is slicked back like it was at prom. I smile. He kisses me.

"You look great."

"Mmm. You too." I reply. I dip him. His cap falls off. I lift him up again and put his cap back on his head. "Sorry."

"It's alright." He leans down to smooch my cheek. I take his hand and go downstairs with him. Sherlock and my parents are waiting downstairs with cameras. My parents take pictures of us first, then his parents take pictures. We split up. My mother gets pictures of me and my sister. Then Sherlock's parents get pictures of Mycroft and Sherlock. We get into separate cars and drive to the school.

After the ceremony, Sherlock and I are walking together to our parent's cars. He glances at me. I glance back at him. He holds my hand.

"I know you promised me that we would be together always, but you got to show me."

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, I promise to the bottom of my heart, that we will always be together."

"You know I don't like my full name." I couldn't help but giggle a little. He smiles. The last day I saw him smile, was at his graduation party. Truth is, we got into more fights, and I went to Bart's. He went to a different university. We eventually broke up. It was for the best. We didn't see each other for years. I went off to the army to be a doctor. It's what my parents wanted, for me to be a doctor. It was my choice to be in the war. I didn't see Sherlock again, until I bumped into Mike Stamford.

"John! John Watson!" I turn back to Mike as he stands up and hurries towards me, smiling. "Stamford. Mike Stamford. We were at Bart's together."

"Yes, sorry, yes, Mike." I take Mike's offered hand and shakes it. "Hello, hi."

"Yeah, I know. I got fat!" He replies, grinning and gesturing to himself.

"No." I answer, trying to sound convincing.

"I heard you were abroad somewhere, getting shot at. What happened?"

"I got shot." I reply, awkwardly. We both look embarrassed.

A little later we have bought take-away coffees and are sitting side by side on a bench in the park. Mike looks at me worriedly. Oblivious, I takes a sip from my coffee then look across to my old friend.

"Are you still at Bart's, then?"

"Teaching now. Bright young things, like we used to be. God, I hate them!" We both laugh. "What about you? Just staying in town 'til you get yourself sorted?"

"I can't afford London on an Army pension."

"Ah, and you couldn't bear to be anywhere else. That's not the John Watson I know."

"Yeah, I'm not the John Watson..." I stop. Mike awkwardly looks away and drinks his coffee. I switch my own cup to my right hand and look down at my left hand, clenching it into a fist as I try to control the tremor that has started. Mike looks round at me again.

"Couldn't Harry help?"

"Yeah, like that's gonna happen!" I say, sarcastically.

"I dunno – get a flatshare or something?"

"Come on – who'd want me for a flatmate?" I ask. Mike chuckles thoughtfully. "What?"

"Well, you're the second person to say that to me today."

"Who was the first?"

Sherlock is standing at the far end of the lab using a pipette to squeeze a few drops of liquid onto a Petri dish. Mike knocks on the door and brings me in with him. Sherlock glances across at them briefly before looking at his work again. I limp into the room, looking around at all the equipment. Sherlock glances at me again.

"John?"

"Sherlock?"


End file.
